


A Well-Planned Parting

by baggvinshield



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, An Unexpected Anniversary, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Husbands, M/M, References to Lord of the Rings, The One Ring - Freeform, The Shire, Thorin Baggins, Uncle Thorin, old married saps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:47:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3835822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baggvinshield/pseuds/baggvinshield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In April of the year 3001 of the Third Age, Bilbo and Thorin, of the Shire, throw a huge party in honor of their 60th anniversary. Unbeknownst to (almost) everyone, they plan to quietly slip away on a quest to retrace the steps of the journey that brought them together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Well-Planned Parting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [killaidanturner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/killaidanturner/gifts).



> Written for tumblr's #anunexpectedanniversary and originally posted on my tumblr, baggvinshield.
> 
> Dedicated to the entire bagginshield fandom and especially to my internet soulmate, Alaina.

Thorin surveys the scene before him and grins.

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, MR. AND MR. BAGGINS"

,reads the huge banner draped from the limbs of the party tree. Tents are assembled, hundreds of chairs have been set up around dozens of large tables, nearly every family in Hobbiton has contributed something in the way of food, ale, or cider, and the other Mr. Baggins is nowhere to be seen.

“Uncle Thorin!” calls a high voice, and Thorin turns to see Frodo rushing through a crowd of hobbits busily moving platters of food from the cooking station to the serving tables.

“Frodo, my lad,” Thorin says warmly as Frodo reaches him. Thorin claps a hand on his shoulder, rather more gently than he would if he were addressing one of his dwarf nephews. “This is rather a fine party.”

The young hobbit grins. “It is. Everyone is here – all the Bagginses, Tooks, Brandybucks, Boffins, Proudfeet, even the Sackville-Bagginses, but don’t tell Uncle Bilbo that.”

“Where is your uncle?”

“Oh,” Frodo says shyly, “Didn’t he tell you? He and Gandalf are off behind the hill having a smoke and a secret chat.”

Thorin smiles at that. “Well,” he say, leaning in conspiratorially, “I suppose we better sneak away for a pipe and a chat of our own, then.”

But Frodo only laughs, and takes out his pipe. He steers Thorin away from earshot of the other hobbits. “You can’t possibly think I don’t know of your ‘big plans,’ now do you?”

When Thorin looks surprised enough to nearly drop his own pipe as he slips it from his coat pocket, Frodo only laughs harder. “The two of you – you’ve been pouring over old maps and whispering with your heads bent together for months now. Always shutting up as soon as I come into the room.” Frodo shakes his head. “Honestly, how you both managed to defeat a dragon and reclaim an old kingdom is beyond me, when you can’t even plan a holiday without giving it up!” Frodo laughs again, and Thorin joins him.

They find a bench to sit on, and light their pipes as they watch the last minute party preparations, hobbits scurrying to and fro, half of them already more than halfway into the ale.

“Well then,” the dwarf says, exhaling smoke into the night air, “I suppose there’s no cause for me to worry about you. You’ve always been a clever lad Frodo, and I’m fond of you – and very glad you aren’t angry with us for not saying something sooner. But Bilbo was adamant about secrecy, you know how he can be.”

Frodo waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Only – I do wonder when you’ll be coming back.”

Thorin smiles. “In a year or so, I would imagine. Your uncle is getting older, as you know, but is no less hearty for his age. I doubt he’ll want to miss celebrating more than one birthday in the Shire.” Thorin turns to Frodo and looks at him seriously for a moment. “But we’re leaving you Bag End. You understand that, right? It will be your home officially now, and when we return, we’ll be your guests.”

Frodo smiles. “Bag End will always be your home, Thorin. And of course, uncle Bilbo’s as well.” Frodo takes one more puff on his pipe before snuffing it, tapping it out, and tucking it into the pocket of his breeches. “Well,” he says, “I better go find Sam, and you’d better go find uncle!”

Thorin watches him trot off with a wave over his shoulder, and is content to just sit for a few moments more in near-solitude, smoking his pipe. Sixty years, Thorin thinks, sixty years to the day since the first time I entered the Shire, and the first time I laid eyes on Bilbo Baggins. The old dwarf grins to himself. Well, he thinks, there’s something to be said for celebrating a simple life.

He smokes the tobacco in his pipe until it’s finished, and starts off in search of his husband.

****

“Speech!” the hobbits cry in near-unison, “Speech Bilbo! Speech Thorin!”

Thorin, never one to pass up an opportunity for public speaking, rises from his chair and makes his way to the front of the seated crowd. He looks among the familiar faces of gathered hobbits, those that have become his people over the past fifty years, and takes a short moment to reflect on the near-absurdity of it all – how his own life, which he had so long ago believed to be nearly over, could have taken such an abrupt and totally unexpected turn in its autumn. He smiles, and speaks.

“My dear hobbits. I only wish to say that, barring a few small misunderstandings early on-” here a few members of the crowd chuckle heartily, namely some Baggins cousins and Hamfast Gamgee, “-you all have made my retirement from kingship more rewarding and full of purpose than I could ever have imagined. I want to thank you, for opening up your home to me, for giving me a place in the Shire, for making me feel like one of your own,” Thorin smiles and ducks his head, suddenly a bit embarrassed at his fool heart, “and for letting me have for myself the very best of yours – Bilbo Baggins.”

When Thorin, still smiling, once again takes his seat, he can’t help but notice hearing a few sniffles, and he knows that more than one handkerchief has been pulled out and put to use.

 

When Bilbo literally disappears from sight after his own very short speech, Thorin is not surprised. He only shakes his head, smiles, and slips away quietly so as to meet his sneaky husband back at Bag End.

 

“I suppose you think that was very clever,” Gandalf says to Bilbo as Thorin enters the hall.

Thorin snorts. “I thought so.”

Bilbo looks up from his packing when Thorin speaks, and grins at him, before addressing the old wizard. “Oh, it was just for fun, Gandalf. Besides, it’ll give them something new to talk about – Thorin and I have hardly left Hobbiton for fifty years, and I haven’t managed anything unexpected since I brought home a dwarf king as a husband.” Bilbo chuckles to himself as he shoves yet another rolled up map into his pack.

“And yet,” Gandalf goes on, “magic rings should never be used lightly. Do you plan to leave it to Frodo along with everything else?”

“Yes,” Thorin answers quickly, “he does.” Gandalf looks back and forth between the dwarf and the hobbit, who share a look that speaks of previous conversations on the subject. Thorin looks away first, and meets Gandalf’s gaze, quietly imploring him to understand the situation. “I don’t expect we’ll be meeting any trolls or orcs on the road this time around, so we’ll hardly need Bilbo to be disappearing from sight.”

“And if we let you navigate,” Bilbo grumbles, still scurrying about the room grabbing books and parchments, “we’ll never even make it to Rivendell, let alone Erebor, and we’ll no doubt be very sorry to be without my ring when we’re being gobbled by goblins!”

Thorin only huffs out a laugh, and looks upon Bilbo with fondness, while secretly he hopes that Bilbo will agree to part with the ring, as they had discussed.

Gandalf continues in a serious tone. “I think you should leave the ring behind, Bilbo.” It occurs to Thorin that his own concerns about Bilbo’s odd behavior concerning the ring have not, in fact, gone unnoticed by Gandalf, and that he must have picked up on some of Bilbo’s strange habits.

Bilbo looks up from his packing, staring first at Gandalf, and then turning his gaze on his husband. “You two are in league against me,” he says, and something hard makes its way into his voice, “why, you’re ganging up on me! Why shouldn’t I keep it? I found it after all, it came to me, it’s mine!”

Gandalf looks taken aback, while Thorin’s expression turns stony. “Bilbo, we’ve discussed this,” Thorin says, and his voices grates on the words he speaks, “I don’t trust that ring, and I think I know something of… of obsession, with golden objects, if you recall-”

“You want it for yourself!” Bilbo shouts, his face twisting in fury as he points an accusing finger at Thorin, who looks stricken and raises his hands as if in defense.

“Bilbo-” he starts brokenly, but Gandalf cuts him off.

“Bilbo Baggins!” roars the wizard, “We are not trying to rob you!” A darkness seems to creep into the hall of Bag End as Gandalf appears to grow greater in stature. “We’re trying to help you,” the wizard says, and just like that whatever magic might have been conjured recedes, and just as quickly, Bilbo is overwhelmed with embarrassment and regret.

The hobbit turns to Thorin almost sheepishly, screwing his face up in remorse. “Thorin, I’m sorry,” but the dwarf is already moving, gathering Bilbo in his arms and shushing him. It’s almost a fierce embrace, and Thorin thinks of the first time he reached for Bilbo in this way, nearly sixty years ago and far away, with relief and joy welling in his heart.

Thorin kisses Bilbo’s hair, and releases him after a long moment. Bilbo turns to Gandalf, who only smiles at him warmly.

“The ring must go to Frodo,” Gandalf says gently. “Trust me, as you once did. Let it go.”

Bilbo nods. “You’re right, Gandalf.” He turns to Thorin and offers a genuine smile. “Well, now that’s sorted, I think you and I had better be off.” And with that, Bilbo takes Thorin’s hand in his, shoulders his pack, and heads for the round door.

But Thorin pulls free of his grasp, stays where he is. “Bilbo,” he says quietly, “the ring is still in your pocket.”

Bilbo pulls the door open and falters, standing with his back to his friends for a moment before turning, slowly. “Ah, right,” he says. Thorin and Gandalf watch mutely as Bilbo slips his hand into his pocket, pulls out the ring, gazes at it gleaming in his palm, holds his hand out and away from himself, slowly turns his hand over, and-

-drops it.

Thorin winces reflexively at the odd metallic clang that seems to echo through the rooms of Bag End as the ring impacts the stone floor. But when he sees Bilbo smile at him, the dwarf feels as if a weight has lifted, and he smiles back.

Bilbo steps forward and once again grabs his husband by the hand, and this time Thorin allows himself to be lead through the door, grabbing his own pack as he goes. Together they step out into the night, with Gandalf behind them.

“Have you thought of an ending to your book?” the wizard asks, as the pair turn to him at the gate.

Bilbo smiles, “I have. ‘And they lived happily ever after – to the end of their days’. And I suspect they will.”

Gandalf smiles, and offers his hand to the hobbit. “Goodbye, my dear Bilbo.” Bilbo pulls him down into a hug.

“Goodbye, Gandalf.” The hobbit turns and walks through the gate.

Thorin looks at the wizard, offers him a small smile and a handshake. “Until we meet again,” he says, and then follows his husband out to the road.

“Well,” Bilbo says matter-of-factly, “if we’re to be retracing the steps of our quest, I suppose we ought to visit our old friends the trolls,” and when he turns to Thorin, there’s a gleam of mischief in his eye.

Thorin laughs, and lays a warm hand against the back of Bilbo’s neck, drawing him close until their foreheads are just brushing. “I think we ought to check on them, yes – see how they’re doing.” The kiss Bilbo places on Thorin’s lips is warm and sweet.

 

The pair walk in companionable silence, both enjoying the warm air of the April night, the smell of spring in the Shire, and content in the knowledge that, wherever the road may take them, they’ll be going there together.

**Author's Note:**

> these two jeez it's embarrassing


End file.
